


Superbloom

by lologoblens



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bed & Breakfast, Cape Cod, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Magical Realism, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29681925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lologoblens/pseuds/lologoblens
Summary: After the death of her mother (good riddance), Catra uses her inheritance to open a Bed and Breakfast in her home town. She pours her heart and soul into the house, and together they grow.Five years later, Adora leaves her would-be bride at the altar. Looking to clear her head, she escapes to Cape Cod. With no reservation and no plan, she takes the only free room she can find at a charming B&B named The Elderberry Inn.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Frosta/Flutterina, Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra)
Comments: 131
Kudos: 274





	1. An End, A Beginning, and An End

**Author's Note:**

> Superbloom Notes&Symbols Link:  
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XfA06QiTGORjxho_JB1zb6S2PSs3WPSd/view?usp=sharing  
> Playlist Link:  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ytvReACOqbRuFfd01SfC7?si=eaDBeNXuQX2y6a2Lr-eyTw  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! I’m so, so excited to share this story with you!!  
> I’ll have the links above at the start of every chapter. One is for the playlist I made for this story and the other I am extremely excited to share. This is a living document with the symbolism master doc I created for this fic (It's a lil messy but 🤷 It's also color coded, so. Some parts _are_ redacted-no spoilers!), plus a list of symbols by chapter. If you’re reading as I post-I’ll be updating as I go and if you’re not, there’ll be as many in there as there are chapters. PLUS there’s the floorplan for the B&B (2020 and 2015 versions, nbd) AND I’ll be adding one more sheet a few chapters in once a few more characters are revealed. It should be accessible without permission/approval/whatever, but let me know if I fucked it up and I’ll do what I can!  
> Okay, I have a lot of energy and enthusiasm but I’m gonna save the rest of it for the end, enjoy chapter one and I’ll see you at the bottom!

_ Superbloom : A rare desert botanical phenomenon in which an unusually high proportion of wildflowers whose seeds have lain dormant in desert soil germinate and blossom at roughly the same time. The phenomenon is associated with an unusually wet and rainy season. _

* * *

_March 29th 2015_

There’s an old lawyer in front of Catra, Casta and Micah. Catra thinks he looks like a toad, and his voice kind of sounds like one too; low and warbling. She knows she should be listening to what he’s saying, but she can’t focus for the life of her. Might even be disassociating a little. She tries to focus on her senses; she can feel the hard wood of the least ergonomic chair she’s ever sat in; she can taste lemon balm, the scent of it heavy in the air and on her tongue, dripping down the back of her throat-so that’s smell too; she can hear the robin nesting in the tree outside; she looks away from the lawyer and his round, green tinged face and she can see a vase with vibrant red poppies. Consolation. She wonders if the lawyer's secretary bought them knowing what they mean or if it’s just an ironic coincidence. 

Micah shifts in the chair beside her and she glances over at him. He’s looking intently at Shadow’s lawyer, a small frown on his face. It looks out of place, warping the worn laugh lines that usually light up his features. Good someone’s paying attention though, he can relay the will to her later. Whatever the testament part of Last Will and Testament is, she’s sure she can live without it. Catra’s mom was a bitch in life and she has no doubt she’d use her death to deliver one final blow. She was probably drunk when she drafted it up with the lawyer too. Not that he’d have been able to tell, she did always know how to hide it in polite company. At least, until the end. 

When Catra’s mom found out her liver was hanging on by a thread she ignored the doctor’s recommendation that she ease up, and started to live her life with abandon. For Shadow Weaver that meant having her first drink at nine a.m. instead of waiting for the clock to hit double digits and no longer filtering her thoughts at all. She’d never bothered with Catra of course, but when she went off on the mayor in the middle of Trader Joe’s it was clear she’d given up any and all remaining sense of decorum. By that point Catra hadn’t spoken to her in over five years, barring the occasional voicemail left in her inbox by her drunken and raving lunatic of a mother, so she heard about it third hand from Glimmer.

It was one of those moments she truly hated living in the same tiny ass town she was born in. She’d move but for as much as Shadow sucked, the rest of their family is dear and precious to Catra. Not that she was great at telling them that until recent years. As a wiley sixteen year old, bouncing back and forth between her own home and that of her cousins’, she’d been eager to blame anyone close enough for her situation. It was always _Micah and Angella’s_ fault when she had to go back to her mom. Nevermind how Micah teared up everytime she got into the social worker’s car, nor the hushed conversations she would hear the couple having with Catra’s case worker over the phone. Catra blamed him for not fighting harder. 

Things are different now, better. _Catra_ is better, or working on it at least. The last thing she wants is her family sitting in a lawyer’s office after her death, more upset about having to be there than they are about their loss. She shifts in her seat, crossing an arm protectively over her chest. Micah glances over and gives her a tight, understanding smile and she sends a strained grimace back. 

He clears his throat and looks back to the lawyer. “Mr. Hordak, if I may. We appreciate your time, truly, but it’s been a...trying day.” His eyes cut to Catra and the lawyer’s eyes follow his line of sight with an impassive look. Catra adopts an even mask over her own features and he looks away again. “If we could just skip the formalities and cut to the chase, I think that might be best.”

Mr. Hordak gives Micah a long look, but eventually shuffles some papers and clears his throat. “Very well, Ms. Weaver’s wishes were fairly simple. Her half of the ownership over, ahem, Cape Codfish General Store goes to Mr. Micah Moon. The rest of her estate goes to her daughter, Ms. Catarina Weaver.”

Casta makes a noise of discontent on the other side of Micah but Catra doesn’t take it personally. She knows it’s not about what she’s inherited but rather the fact that Shadow had stipulated all three of them be at this meeting; one final ‘Fuck You’ to her least favorite niece. Her only niece, to be clear. Not counting Angella who married in, or Juliet who is-Catra is fairly certain- Casta’s legal domestic partner after a decade of cohabitation. They all knew Shadow was going to use this opportunity to twist any knives she’d left buried in her supposed loved ones. Frankly, Catra is surprised she hadn’t left everything to the local audubon society or something. Not that she wants the house _or_ whatever money her mother had left after buying out the liquor store on a regular basis.

“Ms. Weaver also left a letter for each of you.” He passes over three envelopes, the stationary thick and obviously expensive. Their names are written in elegant calligraphy and the backs are sealed with Shadow’s signature ‘W’ wax stamp. 

There are a few more niceties exchanged, some paperwork to fill out, and they’re on their way. Each carries an envelope that weighs much more heavily than the quality paper dictates. Out front of the office Micah holds his between two fingers and shakes it in a nervous tic. “Well...we could get lunch, open them together? Like a little support group.”

Catra appreciates the forced enthusiasm, she really does. Still, her response is a resounding, “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Casta nods her agreement. “I’m happy to sit with you while you open yours brother dear, but I think I may need some...time.”

Micah deflates. “Yeah, yeah I’m not so sure I’m ready either. We could still get lunch though, on me! I’m not sure about you ladies but I am _famished_.”

Casta and Catra chuckle at the emphatic invitation and agree, following Micah to Cata’s car. Catra slips her letter into her back pocket as they cross the parking lot, half hoping it will fall out on the way there.

As Casta starts the engine, Micah turns in his seat to ask them both, “Hey, did anyone else smell lemon balm in that office?” He chortles lightly. “What was up with _that_?”

_October 28th, 2015_

Catra stands in front of the decrepit old mansion she’d signed the deed to mere hours ago, the key weighing heavily in her hand. She stares at the peeling, robin’s egg blue paint and the weathered wood of the porch. The pungent fragrance of common boneset tickles at her nose and she scrunches it. It’s a lovely smell but all the flowers should have withered up two months back and she doesn’t see any around the house. Didn’t when she first came to look at the place either. Choosing to ignore the out of season scent, she continues her perusal. The windows that do have shutters are hanging on by a single nail and the window up in the attic is badly broken. 

It occurs to her that there must be some bats up there by now, and that she should get a bathouse for the property before chasing them out. Just one more To Do on a never ending list. She’d anticipated that though, after all, a fixer upper was the only option in her budget. Especially with how many rooms she was looking for. This one has seven, two on the third floor which she’ll turn into her living area and bedroom, and five for guests. That had seemed like a manageable amount when she chose this place, plus it’s a short walk to the beach which was a real get, but now the whole thing seems...daunting. She can’t help but wonder if she’s made the right choice.

A bed and breakfast, really? It’s not like this was some big dream she’d been harboring for years. And her only experience is as a maid at one of the more established places in the area. Hardly makes her ‘girl boss’ material. That’s fine though, she kind of fucking hates that phrase. She’s twenty-seven years old for shit’s sake-well, twenty-eight as of today. Catra is a woman, not a girl thank you very much. 

She’s startled out of her thoughts when a bright orange butterfly lands on her shoulder, she must have been standing still a long time then. She frowns at the little guy. “First the flowers, now you? A bit late there, bud. Where are all your friends?” The butterfly just flaps their wings and Catra shrugs, successfully scaring them off. 

With that, Catra decides it’s time to go in. The family will be here soon with champagne and effusive congratulations, but she’d asked for a head start. She wanted time to say hello to the house, introduce herself and start getting to know it. She steps onto the porch and the second step creeks, the sound is homey rather than concerning despite the age of the building. The porch is huge, possibly the feature Catra loved the most what with the weathered, white washed swing in one corner. She’ll probably put a couple tables out here too for good measure. 

When she opens the door a bell tinkles and she looks up. Sure enough, there’s an old brass bell hung above the door. It’s funny, she doesn’t remember it being there before, but she _had_ looked at an awful lot of properties. She shrugs it off and walks into the house. It’s...dusty and dilapidated, just like she remembers. But the bones are just as good as she remembers too. The entry hall has a grand chandelier, a few of the crystals need replacing but Catra is already in love with the light in the small room. The next room is where she’s planning to put the front desk. A small foyer with stairs on the right leading up to the bedrooms and the hall directly ahead. The stairs themselves are gorgeous, with an ornate mahogany banister that’s surprisingly unblemished. Even the dust has elected not to settle on it. The house is clearly proud of the feature and she runs her fingers over it before venturing down the hall. On the left is a grand dining room with another brilliant chandelier, and on the right is the den. She’s picturing plush couches and armchairs and bookcases filled with books and plants and whatever other knick knacks she can borrow from her own collection.

The kitchen is...immaculate already, clearly the hearth of the house and well loved. Really the only thing that needs significant work is the old gas range which doesn’t light when she turns the knobs. A small mudroom with a huge sink and a long line of coat hooks sits off to the side, with doors leading to the wrap around porch and back garden. She walks through the latter and breathes in the fresh air. It smells sweeter back here. It smells like home, unfamiliar and sweet. 

She spends some time just sitting in the overgrown grass, running her fingers through the blades and imagining what it will look like with a healthy dose of her blood, sweat and tears. It’s going to take work, and a lot of it, but sitting in the garden she knows this is right where she’s supposed to be. That all of this is going to be work worth doing. She checks the time and heaves a sigh. Her family will be here soon and there’s one more thing she wants to do before they arrive. She stands and approaches the door. 

Before heading in she plucks a late elderberry from a branch on her right and pops it in her mouth. It’s mostly bland, a bit too tart if she's honest, but when she walks in the door it is with even more resolve in her bones than when she walked out. 

She returns to the den and starts a fire in the brick fireplace. It takes her a minute to get it going but in no time it’s roaring. She should have the chimney checked out before lighting any more fires, but this one is important, symbolic. From her back pocket she produces a letter, her late mother’s last words to her, and tosses them in the fire. It’s mostly anticlimactic, but the note of finality brings her peace. She’s ready now, for whatever comes next. 

{*}

_Mr. & Mrs. Aquarii Star cordially invite you to the wedding of their daughter _

_Natalia Star_

_ & _

_Adora Greyskull_

_Daughter of the late Mrs. & Mrs. Honor Greyskull _

_June 20th, 2020_

_Ceremony at 10:00 am at Old North Church_

_193 Salem St. Boston, MA_

_Reception to follow_

_..._

Adora stares out at the sea of people before her. She recognizes pretty much all of them but...well, her portion of the congregation today definitely doesn't take up a full side of the church. Not even close. Tali’s guest list made up the difference though, and the pews are full. She withholds a sigh. Their gathered witnesses is one matter, the church itself is an entirely other thing. Adora wanted an outdoor venue, maybe a beach. Ever the reasonable one, Tali had insisted that was impractical; too many variables to contend with. Weather mostly. Ironically today is a beautiful day, which Adora noticed on her way here with a grimace. Still, Tali had also made the point that the ceremony being held in a church was important to her parents. 

That had really decided things, after all they were paying for this. Which, okay, Adora had also really wanted to keep it small and cheap, to pay for it themselves, but they had offered and Tali pointed out that it would be nice to be able to invite as many people as they wanted to their wedding…. Kind of a moot point for Adora with her half full side of the aisle, but it was Tali’s day too and she should be able to have whoever she wants in attendance. She has a really big extended family after all. Plus, Adora’s not being entirely fair to the Stars. She loves them like they’re her own parents, and Jewel and Starla like siblings; of course she wants them to enjoy their daughter’s wedding day. Even if that means being in this creepy ass church when she and Tali exchange vows.

She shivers when she catches the eye of the Virgin Mary. Adora’s pretty sure she’s being judged by the stupid statue for standing at the altar with doubts, so she turns to look behind her. Mara and Lonnie are there and the former gives her a smile and a big thumbs up. Adora smiles at her sister and...it takes so much effort. All of it-all of _this_ -it’s taking so much from her. Isn’t she supposed to be _gaining_ something today? Like, many things? Isn’t she supposed to feel like the world is finally opening up, and _not_ like the walls are caving in on her? This is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, so why does she feel-why does she feel like she can’t breathe? She looks to Lonnie and _hates_ the knowing look she sees on her face.

They’ve been best friends since elementary school, no one knows her like the two women standing behind her. At least she got that part right. She sends Lonnie a pained and pleading look, unable to speak over her racing heart. Lonnie raises an eyebrow, asking Adora what she wants to do from here, telling her she’s running out of time. And she _is_ , she is running out of time. The wedding march is going to start any second now, Tali is going to walk down the aisle in her beautiful dress-which Adora has already seen by the way. The day she brought it home because she said she didn’t want to find out Adora hated it on their wedding day. Which-shouldn’t her fiance be confident that Adora would find her stunning in anything? _Especially_ on their wedding day? 

“Adora?” Her eyes snap to Mara’s face. She looks concerned. “Adora? Squirt, are you okay?”

“I-” Adora wants to say yes. She also kind of wants to say no. The conflicting answers lodge in her throat. 

Mara’s face goes pale and ashy and the words in Adora’s throat plummet into her stomach, sinking like a stone. “Adora,” she starts in a whisper, leaning in closer. “Are you having a panic attack?” Adora nods instantly, the movement jerky. She realizes absently that she’s somewhere between hyperventilating and not breathing at all. “ _Fuck_. Okay, just-”

Mara turns to Lonnie, says something about taking care of something, and Adora’s eyesight shrinks to tunnel vision. After a moment she feels strong arms around her shoulders, Mara’s she thinks. They guide her away from the alter towards-towards somewhere. The priest’s office maybe. She’s pressed into a chair and a moment later she’s handed a glass of water. Her hand shakes so bad the water sloshes violently over the sides of the little paper cup. She panics and fists her hand, effectively crumpling the cup and drenching the pant leg of her suit.

“Adora?” Mara’s voice is firm, commanding enough to make Adora look at her. “Good, just focus on me okay? Can you take a deep breath for me?” She shakes her head and Mara’s frown deepens. “Alright, well try at least, okay? Come on, deep breath in…” It takes a few tries to get Adora going but in a couple minutes she’s at least taking in air. “How ya feeling, Squirt?”

“I’m-” Her voice breaks and she really wishes she hadn’t spilled all that water. “Mara,” she whispers, “I can’t.” Her sister’s eyes go wide and Adora’s tears start. Something tells her this is only the beginning. 

“Hey!” Lonnie bursts into the room, startling both sisters. If Adora still had water, she’d spill it all over again. “Dor, what’s going on, girl?”

“Lonnie, I-”

Her best friend grimaces and nods. “Yeah, I thought so. You want me to get Tali, or do you need a minute?”

Adora sniffs and wipes at her face. “Am I horrible? How can I just-I love her, I really love her I just _can’t_ -”

Mara’s arm wraps around her shoulders and Lonnie shakes her head. “Pretty sure it would be worse to marry her just because you feel bad. Doesn’t mean this isn’t shitty mind you-”

“Lonnie,” Mara scowls at her. “not helping.”

Lonnie just stares her down, unfazed. “She’s about to leave her fiance at the altar, pretty sure we all know this is shitty. Still less shitty than going through with it though.”

Adora stands, ignoring the questioning looks of her bride’s maid and matron of honor, and gets herself a new cup of water from the cooler across the room. With her back turned she chugs three of the little cups, then crumples that one too. It gets tossed in the bin and she uses both hands to wipe up her face. She looks to Lonnie when she turns around. “Will you go get her?” She nods solemnly and exits again. 

“Are you _sure_ this is what you want?” Adora turns to her sister, she’s sat on the edge of the desk, looking at her with that horrible concerned look. “I know how much you love Tali, Adora. You’ve been together since high school, you don’t want to at least try to work through it?”

Adora's lip wobbles and she takes a few steadying breaths. Her voice is still shaking when she opens her mouth. “I think the problem is...I still feel like the same girl I was in high school but Tali…” She pauses to smile fondly as she thinks of her fiance. Adora truly is so _proud_ of the woman she’s become in the last decade. “She’s not the same anymore.”

“What, she’s changed? Adora, people-”

A shake of her head cuts Mara off. “She’s _grown_.”

“Squirt, it’s not like you’re fucking arrested development over here.”

She shrugs and wipes at her eyes again. “Maybe not but I’m not...did I even want to get married? Why are we doing this in the first place? Plus, I always said if I _did_ get married, I’d elope. Skip all the hoopla and get a vacation out of the deal.”

“Well…” Mara begins carefully. “Relationships are about compromise, right? I know you were kind of ambivalent about marriage but it was important to Tali so…”

Adora smiles, biting down on her shaky bottom lip. “So we did what she wanted.” Mara makes a face, opens her mouth to continue, but Adora doesn’t let her. “I’m not saying it’s her fault, I’m just saying...I’m saying-I don’t know what I’m saying! All I know is I never gave a shit about getting married, I haven’t been inside a _church_ since mom and mama died, and I’m standing here in a suit that cost more than my first car and I don’t know _why_.”

“Why did you _propose_ then, Adora?”

She rubs her forehead in frustration. “Because I-because I thought...I thought, we’ve been together for over a decade and I know it’s what she wanted and it didn’t feel _fair_ to not give it to her because I’m ambivalent. I just didn’t realize…”

“You’re ambivalent about Tali, not just marriage.” Mara finishes, resigned.

Adora sighs. “Something like that.”

“Adora, I-” A knock at the door cuts off whatever was coming next. Without waiting a disgruntled looking Talia opens the door. She looks right at Adora and doesn’t look up when Mara excuses herself with a soft, “I’ll just give you two...a minute.”

Adora stands frozen by the water cooler, staring at her...fiance. Talia looks majestic, her gown is ivory satin, the design angular and sleek. Her head is freshly buzzed and dyed dusky pink-Adora knows it must be _so soft_ and feels tears prick her eyes with the knowledge that she’ll never feel that softness again. 

“What the fuck, Adora?”

Adora blinks once, the press of her eyelids firm and lingering, and tears roll down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Tal.”

Talia rubs her fingers harshly over her forehead at the apology. Under her breath she mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” and Adora winces. 

“I really thought…”

“Thought what?” she asks harshly, hand going to her hip. “Thought _this_ was the appropriate time to back out? Adora, our ceremony was supposed to start five minutes ago!”

“I _know_ , Talia, and I’m sorry. I-”

“Yeah, sorry’s not going to cut it. What is this? Is it-” She drops her hand and crosses the several steps between them to grab Adora’s. “Honey, if this is just cold feet that’s _fine_. I get it, I was freaking out last night too. It’s perfectly norm-”

“ _Is it_ though?” Adora asks, squeezing her partner’s hand. “Don’t you feel-I think what you deserve, what we _both_ deserve, is a night before where we can’t _wait_ for the next day. Where getting married doesn’t feel…” Tali raises her eyebrows and Adora shakes the thought off, knowing better than to finish. 

“You're such a romantic, Adora, you always have been.” It doesn’t sound like a quality Talia much appreciates right now. 

She reaches up to brush her fingers over Adora’s boutineer; the dark tips of the false indigo, ruffled petals of the yellow rose, she knocks a petal off one of the little buttercups Adora had requested. Talia had insisted they were too fragile for this sort of thing but it was one of the few things Adora asked for, so she gave in. Adora can tell an ‘I told you so’ is dancing through her mind as her eyes follow the petal’s downward trajectory. 

“Tal…”

Her eyes snap back up. “That’s not what life is like, Honey. You literally have anxiety, of course a huge life change is going to make you nervous.”

Adora’s jaw flexes and she narrows her eyes. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like I’m not the bad guy here, but can you not?”

Talia just scoffs. “Not what, exactly? Call you out for being-”

“Wielding my mental health like a weapon when you don’t agree with me!”

“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes and in that moment, Adora knows she’s making the right decision. Not because it’s so egregious-Tali is getting left at the altar after all, a bit of lashing out is to be expected. Rather because in that moment Adora sees a flash of a future where they have this same fight-one they’ve had dozens of times before-again and again and again. It exhausts her. 

“Talia…”

“What?” She presses, voice hard.

Adora looks out the window, a huge purple butterfly bush takes up half the view. In the other half she can see the vintage car Mr. Star had insisted on renting for them for the occasion, tin cans tied to the bumper. She turns back to Talia, there’s still a little bit of fight left in her eyes. “Tal, it hasn’t been good for a while, has it?”

She deflates but her expression remains guarded. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“We didn’t even want to write our own vows, Sweetie. Why do you even want to marry me?”

She rolls her eyes again. “What? So you _wouldn’t_ be leaving me if I had given in and agreed to write our vows? Fine, whatever, give me ten minutes and a pen and we can get back out there, how’s that?”

“Talia.”

“Gods damn it, _what_ , Adora?”

“Why do you wanna marry me?”

“How can you even ask me that? We’ve been together for almost thirteen _years,_ Adora!”

“Talia, I’ll marry you, I will walk out there and marry you without a moment’s hesitation if you can tell me why you want to marry me in a way that makes me feel seen, _loved_. Something besides the amount of time we’ve invested.”

Talia frowns and her brows knit together. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.” Adora returns with a sad smile, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with her free hand. 

“Isn’t that enough?” Talia asks, voice starting to encroach into more emotional territory. 

“It’s not, so what else is there?”

Tears begin to well in her eyes and it’s all Adora can do to not reach out for her. “I-I don’t...I don’t want to lose you, Adora.”

“And I don’t want to lose you, Talia. I just don’t think getting married is the way we keep each other.”

Talia sucks her teeth and blinks rapidly, Adora knows how she hates to cry-even in front of just her. She chances a light touch, freeing her hand and reaching forward with both to wipe at her tears. Talia lets it happen, looking up to the ceiling and closing her eyes. When Adora pulls away she looks back at her. “If we...if we don’t do this-Adora I don’t know how to live without you in my life.”

Adora squeezes her eyes shut and works to suppress the sob rising in her chest. Her heart aches from the effort of it. She looks back to her would-be wife and tries for a smile. “You don’t have to, not forever. I know we’re both gonna need some time but, Talia, I still- whenever you’re ready I still want to know you. You’re still important to me.”

“I love you, Adora.”

“I love you too, Sweetie.”

“I also hate you a little bit right now.” She states it matter of factly but for the threat of tears that still lingers. 

“Totally fair.”

“You’re a total bitch for doing this to me.” 

Adora chuckles wetly and a ghost of a smile haunts the corner of Talia’s lips. “Very true.”

“I-thank you, for not going through with it at least. I kind of wish you had but I’m glad I won't be a divorcee before I’m thirty.”

Adora shrugs. “I dunno, divorcees are kind of sexy.” She waggles her eyebrows and Talia rolls her eyes one more time, a little more fond now. “Air of mystery and all that.”

“Fuck, at least I’m not marrying that sense of humor now.”

“I really am sorry.” Adora says again, bringing the mood back down a notch.

Talia sighs. “I know you are, Honey.”

“So...what now?”

Talia sighs. “I guess we...I guess we don’t get married.” 

“If you’re up for it, I think you should still have the party.” Talia gives her a droll look and Adora laughs. “I mean, only if you want, but if anyone deserves a night of drinking and some cake it’s definitely you.”

Talia makes a pensive face and tips her head side to side in a considering gesture. “That is true…”

Adora smiles at her, something in her chest loosening at the return of Talia’s sense of humor. “Do you want me to tell everyone?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll make dad do it.”

And just like that any part of Adora that had relaxed constricts again. It’s not just Talia that she’s losing today. If she’s honest that’s half the reason she showed up this morning. “Will you...tell them I’m sorry?”

Talia’s shoulders fall and Adora can tell that she knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Adora...they’re gonna be mad, just like I am, but they’re also always gonna love you, just like…” She closes her eyes and huffs out a breath.

“I love you too.” Adora whispers. “I always will.”

Talia’s eyes stay closed and Adora sees her jaw flex a few times. “I just...I think I need a minute.”

“Yeah, okay.” Adora steps back. “I’ll leave you alone, take all the time you need.”

She gets almost to the door when she’s stopped by her name. “Adora?” She turns around and Talia is staring at her, looking radiant as ever. If she can find the will to walk away right now, it’s gotta be the right call. “The apartment, we-”

She shakes her head. “It’s yours, I know how much you love that place.”

Talia looks at her for a long minute then nods. “You hated it from the start, didn’t you?”

“I mean, I figured you knew that when you asked what I liked about it and I told you my favorite part was the number of outlets in each room.”

Talia purses her lips in a poor caricature of a smile. “I told myself you were just being an earth sign.” 

Adora shrugs. “That too. I can get most of my stuff tonight if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine, I can stay with Starla and Gloria. Are you gonna crash with Mara and Hope?”

“No,” Adora voices the thought as it comes to her. “I think I might travel for a little bit, get out of town and clear my head.”

Talia raises an eyebrow at her. “Planning to take our honeymoon or something?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Definitely not, but I bet they’d upgrade the two tickets to business class if you wanted to. First class if you tell them your asshole ex left you at the altar.”

“Maybe, I _was_ looking forward to all that pasta....” She muses. “Maybe I’ll even take Jewel, we can both try and find ourselves pretty italian girls to sweep us off our feet.”

“Ooh, very fancy. A rebound, but make it italian!”

“You’re so stupid, Adora.” she says, not unkindly.

“I mean, I’m walking away from you so I think we both already knew that.” Talia just shakes her head indulgently. “Do you want me to wait?”

“I think it might be best if you don’t.”

Adora grimaces and nods. “Escape the tar and feathers while I still can?”

“Something like that.” She pauses, clearly thinking then adds, “You’re not a bad person, Adora.”

She laughs mirthlessly. “I definitely don’t feel like a _good_ person right now, so I’m not sure I’d agree.”

“I mean it. Yeah, I wish you’d been more upfront with me and much sooner. Also maybe, you know, not proposed to begin with but...you’re right too.”

“Right?”

“It hasn’t been good for a while and...you’re the best there is, Honey, but I still deserve better. And you do too.”

“I think we’re gonna find it, Tal.” Adora shares honestly. “I think we both are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii! Hello it’s me I’m back on my flower/magic bullshit and, yes, I’ve gone feral with this one. I made a timeline? And an outline?? Unheard of. (For me)  
> Anyway, first off big thanks to the CC anon for the prompt and all the help along the way, and to Amitola12 for the additional beta-ing! (If you haven’t read the latter’s stories, well, now you have something to do today.)  
> Also, if you’ve followed any of my other stories you may know I am a notorious chapter count liar but I put it anyway because I have planned this one to a T and I’m choosing to believe in myself. (Still no promises, but.) Y’all should see my copy of the google sheet, you’re only getting like, 25% rn. I honestly might post the full version at the end because I am ridiculously proud of it. It’s color coded. So much color coding- I can’t, my heart. (Virgo moon, what can I say?)  
> Alright, enough of that here, but if you wanna see me nerd out about She Ra and spreadsheets I’m on twitter @lologoblens. Also there if you wanna come scream with me in my DMs about either of those subjects, flowers, or...I dunno, memes? Fics (this or stories you love that I should love too)? Whatever. I’m very keyed up rn if you can’t tell lol. I’d say not all of my notes are this long-and they’re generally sort of mostly not- but there really is no guarantee. I’m excitable. Like a golden retriever. 
> 
> I’m running out of things to say, so I should probably stop.  
> Okay..  
> Thanks for reading!!  
> kthxbaiiiii


	2. Madame Razz

_ June 22nd, 2020 _

When Adora makes it to Cape Cod, she realizes she is an idiot. 

It’s  _ June _ , which is like, peak tourist season. So it should come as no surprise that her chances of finding a room seem to be quickly disintegrating from slim to none. It does though, somehow it still does. To Adora anyway. She’s not even looking for anything  _ fancy _ , a good ol’ Motel or Best Western would do her just fine. Unfortunately all of them are completely booked up. She keeps trying, driving around hoping for a stroke of good luck. 

Finally she gets a lead. She leaves the Town Crier Motel without a room, but the person at the counter told her to try somewhere called the Elderberry Inn. Apparently they heard something about a cancellation. So she crosses her fingers and climbs back into her jeep. It’s not a long drive and she finds street parking close to the inn. Of course, the moment she steps out of her car she manages to trample a patch of flowers.

“Great job, Adora.” she mutters to herself, “in town less than an hour and you’re already wreaking havoc on the local flora.”

She bends down and picks up the stem she managed to break off completely, locks her car, and checks both ways before hopping across the street. The Inn is cute and she approaches the porch with a good feeling, passing a row of pretty purple and yellow violets. The building is painted a bright robin’s egg blue, with white shutters, porch, and balcony. All of the paint is fresh except the notable exception of an old swinging bench on the right, still white but weathered and more faded than anything else around it. 

There’s a wreath hung on the door, covered in Elderberries. It’s a cute touch. Adora pushes the door open and looks up at the clear chime that greets her to see an old brass bell hung above the door. She also notices an  _ amazing _ chandelier when she looks up, casting tiny rainbows around the entry hall. Ahead of her is the foyer with a staircase to her right and, on her left, what she assumes is the front desk. Behind the desk is a woman, about her age she thinks. She has bright pink hair and is rocking a pretty pastel color palette. She’s absorbed in a paperback and doesn’t appear to have heard Adora’s entrance. 

She clears her throat softly and the woman’s head snaps up. “Oh hi! Sorry, I’m just getting to the good bit. You know how it is, like a hundred thousand words of the protagonist and their love interest dancing around each other and then like...ten of them actually getting together. It’s like author’s are just out here to torture us, you know what I mean? So rude, I always read the good bits twice, just to draw it out. Anyway, I-oh, hey-is that Joe Pye weed?”

Adora feels her eyes go wide and her mind go blank in her effort to process the monologue that just rushed out of the woman before her. She follows her eyes to the stem of flowers in her hand then trails them slowly back to her face. Adora notes that she’s pretty and blushes at the thought. “Oh...um, yeah. I mean, maybe? I’m not really sure, I’m not great with plants.”

She can tell this woman is laughing at her from the glimmer in her eyes, but she’s polite enough to keep her reaction to a small smirk and a single raised eyebrow. Adora still blushes. “Right…. Well, anyway, welcome to Elderberry Inn, are you checking in?”

“Yeah, or I hope so at least. I don’t have a reservation but there was a guy? At another hotel I mean, or inn I guess. Well, he was at a motel-” She waves her hands in front of her face, painfully aware of the growth in the woman’s smirk. “Not the point. The point is, everywhere is booked but this guy said you might have a cancellation. So.”

“Clover? Over at the Town Crier?” Adora nods and the woman nods too, like that makes all the sense in the world. “Yeah, that guy’s always up in everyone’s business. And, lucky you, he was right.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Adora breathes, shoulders sagging with relief. 

The woman laughs, light and airy. “How long are you looking to stay?”

“Um...how long is it available, I guess?”

That gets her a second raised eyebrow, but still no comment. “Well the person who cancelled was doing some sort of like, ecological research-y...thing, but their grant got cancelled. So the room’s free till the end of September.”

Adora pauses to think about this. Her publisher isn’t planning to hear from her for the duration of her would-be honeymoon. They weren’t gonna leave right away, so that puts her at the end of July. And even after they expect her to check in, it’s not like she can’t work from anywhere. Plus, when she goes back she either has to move in with her sister-which like, Mara’s great but...you know, her big sister-or find a place. She has no problem putting  _ that  _ task off as long as possible. Especially since she still has to buy furniture and all that crap. Bowls. She really just let Talia have everything that wasn’t sentimental to her personally. 

She supposes...why not stay? And even if she  _ does _ decide to go home early, better to pin the only available room in this town down while she has the chance. She’ll be pissed at herself if she doesn’t and wants to stay come the end of July. So… “Yeah, end of September sounds good.”

“Sorry,” she shifts on her stool and props her head in her hand. “what did you say brings you to the Cape?”

“Oh…” Adora looks down, twirling her flower between her fingers. “Just...getting out of dodge for a bit.”

“For three months?” she asks dubiously. 

Uninterested in diving into her recent, very messy breakup with a perfect stranger, Adora puts the sass on and looks up with a raised eyebrow of her own. “Is that a problem?”

The woman narrows her eyes for a minute, assessing Adora across the counter, then perks up again. “Nope! Glimmer by the way.”

“Huh?”

“My name, I’m Glimmer.”

Adora pauses, waiting for the  _ ba dum tss _ , she’s sure is going to follow. When it doesn’t she takes the name at face value, deciding she’s put in enough bad karma points for herself this lifetime and doesn’t need to add to it by being a dick about this chick’s name, no matter how on the nose it is. “Adora.”

“Nice to meet you. Alright, we’re gonna have you in The Violet Room, I’ll just need a card to get you checked in.” Adora passes it over and they get the payment all sorted. That settled, Glimmer sets a ‘ _ Back in Five Minutes’ _ sign on the desk next to the bell and grabs a key with a little resin keychain containing a pressed version of one of the flowers from the front walk. 

“Do you guys make the keychains?”

“Hmm? Oh, Huntara does. She works the desk a few afternoons a week so you’ll probably see her around.” Glimmer leads her up the stairs chattering away as she goes. “She’s a bit of a jack of all trades, works the ferries a couple days a week too. I still don’t understand what the fuck she does there to be honest with you. She might be an engineer, might just be traffic control. No way to know really. Anyway, she’s also an artist; painting mostly but she dabbles in a bunch of other stuff too. She also carved all the doorstops for Catra.”

“Catra?”

“Oh, the owner. You’ll see her around too. Like all the time probably.” She laughs to herself and they hang a left and then a right, walking to the door at the end of the hall. “She’s only  _ supposed _ to work five days a week but she lives upstairs and stopped understanding the meaning of a day off the second she bought the place. Usually she’s in the garden Mondays but Bow, that’s my husband, took a long weekend for solstice so he dragged her to the beach.” 

“Gotcha…” Adora answers, though truth be told she only half followed. She’s distracted anyhow by the room they’ve entered. It’s not super theme-y but the bedspread and walls are all various shades of violet. There’s a bathroom to the left of the door and Adora already sees a tub she plans to spend a  _ lot _ of time in. She should probably look into some wine now she thinks about it. She is mourning a thirteen year relationship after all. 

“So, this is your room, obviously. Breakfast is seven to ten everyday and lunch is eleven thirty to one. But Sea Hawk, our chef, is here Monday to Wednesday and weekends from six to two and he’ll really feed you any time. You just have to listen to him wax poetic about his aga, but he’s a damn good cook so it’s usually worth it.”

Adora looks away from the massive corner window where she’s been watching two monarch butterflies dance around each other. “His what?”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Don’t even get me started. It’s a fancy ass oven basically. From Sweden I think? And the whole thing is cast iron, or like the burners are.” She waves her hands dismissively. “You’re staying for weeks, I’m sure you’ll hear plenty about it from the expert. He’s usually here Friday nights too with his girlfriend, they come for community dinner. We still have breakfast Friday mornings but it’s more of a continental breakfast vibe than Hawk’s ‘order whatever you want’ deal. Catra has like, a vendetta against breakfast food, not in general but she refuses to figure out how to cook an egg.”

“Isn’t that like, pretty basic?” Adora asks, now just standing in the doorway chatting. She should get her bag soon, but she’s in no rush. 

“Pft, try telling her that. Honestly I think she just likes doing the community dinner thing. All the guests are invited of course, but the whole staff and our family usually comes too, and some of the neighbors. And that starts at seven, usually goes kinda late though so you can turn up whenever.”

“Cool.”

“Mhm, and then everywhere downstairs is free reign. You can help yourself to any leftovers in the kitchen and there’s like, snacks and cereal and stuff in the pantry if you get hungry during off hours. Oh! Also if you see a kind of purple-grey cat running around don’t mind him. His name’s Melog, he’s Catra’s cat. He usually sticks to her floor but he’s a sucker for a good sun spot and spends a lot of time in the garden in summer. I think that’s pretty much it. Any questions?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Great! Well there’s someone at the desk from eight to seven every day, so just let us know if anything comes up. And there’s a number posted if anything urgent comes up during off hours, plus Catra’s right upstairs.”

“Will do, thanks Glimmer.”

“Any time! Here is your key, and you’re all set.” An exchange of smiles and polite waves and Adora is alone. 

She walks further into the room and drops onto the bed, looking around at her digs for, apparently, the next three months. Now she’s sitting here that feels like stupidly long for a trip out of town to ‘clear her head’. She falls onto her back with a groan. Then again, it does feel like the potentially  _ good _ kind of stupid. And lucking into a room really did feel like a small act of magic. The butterflies outside her window distract her from her musings, and she watches them until they dance out of sight. 

Deciding if she doesn’t get up now, she never will, she stands to go grab her bags. She definitely didn’t pack for three months, so she should probably ask about a laundromat at some point. When she passes Glimmer she goes unnoticed again, the woman absorbed in her book once more. Adora slips out the door and trots over to her jeep, grabbing her duffel and little hardshell suitcase. 

She’s hopping up the steps of the porch when a voice calls out from the swing to her right. “Oh there you are, Mara Dear!”

Adora turns to find an old lady, like  _ old _ -old, sitting on the swing with what looks like...a shirley temple? She’s shrouded in layers of fabric and her neck and fingers are heaped with clattering jewelry. It looks nice, very sparkly, if not a bit over the top in its quantity.

“Sorry?”

“I was wondering if you were ever going to get here! You’re late, Mara.”

Adora furrows her brow and sets her suitcase on the porch. “Sorry, do we know each other? I think you might be confusing me for someone else.”

“Don’t be silly!” the woman cackles, the force of her laughter bouncing her jewelry and making a great ruckus. 

“Uh...well my name isn’t Mara, it’s Adora.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?”

“I mean, no? We just met so…”

“Pah!” She’s waved off with a glittering hand. Adora would be offended but like...she supposes old people are allowed to be a little in their own world. That’s one of the perks, right? “Don’t forget, we’re making a pie on Thursday!”

“Oh..” Adora startles. “I’m not really much of a baker…”

“That is fine, Mara, you can collect the berries! I’m thinking bearberries, what do you think?”

“Uh, I think my name is Adora and not Mara, so…” Adora laughs, amused by the runaround at this point.

Razz seems to think about this, then decides, “Well you can still help! Come down at two.”

Adora smiles, bemused. “Do you work here?”

“Hah! Depends on who you ask, Mara Dear.”

“Well I heard Catra’s the owner, what would she say?”

“Eh, full of lies, that girl. Don’t ask her.” Adora takes that to mean she  _ doesn’t _ work at the inn, which frankly generates more questions than it answers. Seems like this Razz might not be the one to ask though, so she lets it lie.

“Right, well I should get my bags up to my room.”

“Yes, yes, go rest. You’ve had a long journey to get here.”

Adora tips her head, confused by the assessment. “I mean, I’m only in from Boston.”

Razz looks her dead in the eye and answers, “I think we both know that is not what I am talking about.”

Adora holds her stare for a long minute, trying to suss her out. It gets her nowhere and she decides that’s just about enough socializing for her today. Or at least until she takes a damned nap. She breaks the stare. “Great, well...see you around, I guess.”

“On Thursday.” Razz emphasizes.

“Sure, Razz, we can bake a pie on Thursday.” She’s not sure if that’s a promise she intends to keep, but since when has that stopped her?

_ March 15th 2016 _

Catra rises from her knees with a groan, brushing dirt off her knees before attempting to rub away the soreness. The sun is getting hot now, she knows she ought to go inside, drink some water and reapply sunscreen but...there’s still a lot of work to be done. Now that spring is well and truly here, all the overgrowth in the garden is having a field day. The garden is overrun with kudzu, the invasive vine starting to make its way up the Eastern red cedar. And there’s no way Catra’s letting that get choked out. She doesn’t even know how the kudzu  _ got here _ , she’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be a southern plant. There’s a plan though, and that’s what’s getting Catra through. Well, that and Bow and Glimmer’s regular visits to remind her to eat.

The porch is filled with plants just waiting to get in the dirt. She spent  _ hours _ the day before, chatting with Saturn down at the wholesale nursery. The poor thing was very sweet about Catra  _ grilling her _ with question after question about native plants, pollinators, color scheme and anything else she could think of. She really hopes they work on commission, Saturn more than earned it. And Catra left, the bed of her new-to-her pickup loaded with plants. 

Luckily she doesn’t have an entire garden to fill, some of the plants already are gorgeous, non invasive and native to the cape. The massive Eastern Red Cedar for one, standing tall in the back right corner. And beneath it is a patch of wild bleeding hearts, with a couple pretty purple flowers in the middle. They look vaguely vaginal to Catra, but probably she’s just got her mind in the gutter. That or all flowers kind of look that way. Georgia O'keeffe has a reputation for thinking so at least, and who is Catra to question Georgia?

She starts kicking the kudzu she’s already pulled into a pile in the center of the garden but startles when a voice sounds from the black hazel tree, over in the corner by the driveway. “You better be careful, Dearie.”

Catra whips around to find an old woman wandering into her garden. She’s short, which is saying something coming from Catra who is five foot two on a good day, Catra imagines this lady must come in well under five feet. Of course, the way she’s hunching slightly over her cane can’t be helping any. Catra’s not sure if the mass of pink and purple shawls she’s shrouded in makes her look taller or shorter than she actually is. It seems to make her look bulkier at the very least. She also clatters as she walks, it’s a wonder Catra didn’t hear her coming up the driveway. She’s wearing like, five pounds of costume jewelry; necklaces, bangles, more than ten ornate rings-you name it. And all that’s not to mention the giant, coke bottle thick glasses magnifying her eyes.

“Uhh...can I help you?”

“ _ Yes _ , Dearie, be careful!” 

Catra scowls at the vague and thus ominous warning. “Like in general or…?”

“Of the flowers, silly!”

“The flowers?” she asks doubtfully.

“Yes, over there.” She inclines her head back to the corner where Catra was looking and she turns to look. “You were late, I was worried Madame Razz was going to miss you.”

Catra removes one gardening glove, props the hand with both on her hip, and wipes a layer of sweat from her forehead. “Madame Razz, is that you?”

“Of course silly, you already know this though.”

“I’m sorry, are you one of the neighbors? I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“Ah.” Madame Razz waves the words off with a cavalier air. “Must have been another life. Since you apparently aren’t caught up yet, I’m going to live in the shed. Now, these purple-”

“Woah, woah, woah! Excuse me? You’re going to  _ what _ now?” Catra spins to look at the woman who has breezed past her, over to the patch of flowers. Is there like an assisted living facility you escaped from or something? Cause I don’t know you and you  _ definitely _ can’t live in my garage. For like, a lot of reasons actually.”

“Oh, silly girl.” Razz walks over to her and takes Catra’s free hand in both of her own. “I am an eighty-eight year old woman, I will do what I want.”

Catra stares back at her with wide eyes, unsure what the fuck she’s supposed to say to that. “Uh, sure, we can...talk about it later I guess.”

“Excellent.” Razz drops her hand and breaks her stare, going back to the flowers. “Now, have you decided yet dearie?” Catra walks toward her, opening her mouth to ask what the fuck she’s on about now, when Razz turns to her with sharp eyes and snaps, “Put that glove back on right now!”

Sheer surprise motivates Catra to comply. “Okay, I’m clearly missing something here...several somethings actually. What am I deciding?”

“ _ The flowers _ , dearie. Have you decided?”

“Oh, I mean…” She gives Razz a weird look, not the first by any means, and gestures back to the porch. “I went to the nursery the other day so-”

“No, no, right here.” She gestures to the bleeding hearts and the purple flowers sprouting up between them.

“Oh, those?” She shrugs. “They’re pretty, I figured I’d just keep them.”

That earns her a look which tells Catra that Razz thinks she’s just about the dumbest person on the planet. “Do you know what those are?”

“Uh...well, bleeding hearts obviously…”

“And Monkshood!” Razz provides. The name sounds so familiar, Catra is racking her brain… “It is deadly, you keep those gloves on if you decide to pull it out.”

“Oh.” Catra looks warily at the flower, glad she decided to invest in the extra thick gardening gloves and not just use the super old pair she found in the shed after moving in. “If? I mean...I should definitely take them out, right?”

She turns to look at Razz, still a little dazed by her apparent near brush with death. Razz is just looking at her, calm as a breeze tickling the sweetness of hawthorn in May. “Well that is up to you, now isn’t it? It is your garden,  _ you _ must decide what you are trying to grow here.” Razz turns and gives both plants a soft look. “It is all about what you choose to nurture. Everything has value, Dearie, don’t you think?”

“Sure…” 

Razz seems to snap out of her reverie. “Now! Are the cleaning products still in the kitchen? I want to get started on my room before it gets dark.”

“Yeah,” Catra answers absently, still caught in her own trance. “left side.” She stares at the flowers for a half a minute longer, barely registering the sound of some strange old lady bustling into her house through the back door. Then she snaps out of it. “Wait,  _ what? _ ” She starts after her, ripping off her gloves and tossing them haplessly onto the pile of vines. “Lady, you can’t live in my fucking shed, what is  _ wrong _ with you?”

Her protests fall on deaf ears, and just like that Catra has a new tenant. One who apparently plans to pay her rent in spicebush honey and cryptic advice. Catra wants to argue but the joints in the house relax when Razz walks through the door so she decides, at the very least, she can give the old kook a chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy!  
> That thing Glimmer said about authors? And like, 100,000 words? Not pointed, not pointed at all. Like, foreshadowing who? (But we all saw the slow burn tag tho, rite?)  
> For the record, Monkshood is super deadly if you eat it, but just touching it won't kill you unless you have an open wound. But it _will_ make you sick, so still don't tho. (Also it _is_ possibly the most vaginal looking flower I've ever seen. Just saying. But that's just my opinion.)  
>  **Also!!** I'm _very excited/honored_ to have collabed with _@TaraTeacher3_ for this story and they made a super beautiful art of this chapter! You can find that here: https://twitter.com/TaraTeacher3/status/1365790725246451712
> 
> Aaand, last thing I swear, there's another page in the spreadsheet! Nothing wildly exciting but you can now see the Inn's schedule so. Do with that what you will. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and to all the lovely folks who kudosed, commented or shared this story!!


	3. Welcome Home

_ June 23rd, 2020 _

Adora skips The Elderberry’s breakfast the first morning. She got the impression from Glimmer that their chef is...a lot maybe? She’s just not ready to people yet is all. Plus she has plenty of snacks, having come over prepared since she wasn’t sure how far out of Boston she was gonna end up driving. So she has an apple and some ritz crackers and scrolls through social media. Sadistically she kind of hopes there will be something about the wedding. A flood of angry messages in her inbox maybe. Or some vague tweeting from Talia’s friends about the super awkward event they attended the other day. Instead all is quiet. 

Tal hasn’t posted since the morning of the wedding. Adora has it memorized by now, but she keeps looking anyhow. “T-4 hours until I marry my best friend of 15 years! Love you @AdoraGayskull!” Part of Adora wishes it would get deleted. The other part took at least three screenshots in case it does. The first has 69 likes, that’s actually from the morning of. The one she took at the gas station has 420. She wishes she’d taken the second one because it was funny, but really she was too busy crying at a random gas station to get the joke in the moment. 

For now she’s just scrolling through the timeline, that is until her phone rings and she almost drops it on her face. She sits up with a snap in her surprise. It’s Mara calling. She thinks about screening, but knowing Mara she’ll just call over and over, leaving five minute voicemails each time. 

“Hey Mar.”

“She’s alive!” Adora rolls her eyes, she should have expected this call. After all- “You forgot to text me when you landed somewhere.”

“Yeah, sorry. I got in, took a bath, and fell into a depression nap that ended up lasting all night.” She admits, brutally honest.

“Mkay, is that I cry for help I should dig deeper into? Or should I just let you have your melodrama since you’re going through the breakup?”

“Eh, let me have it for now. Talk to me after a couple weeks.”

“Fair enough. So, where did you land?”

“The cape.”

“Oh, so not that far then. You found a room okay?”

Adora scoffs. “The last one in town I think. I tried like, six places before someone sent me here.”

“Where did you end up?”

“The Elderberry Inn?”

“Oh, shit, that sounds familiar…” Adora picks at a cuticle, giving Mara a second to mutter to herself while she thinks. “Hope’s cousin! Pretty sure they stayed there last summer, they said it was cute.”

“It is, yeah. What I’ve seen at least. The room is super cozy, and the garden looks crazy.”

“Sounds like you lucked out, Squirt.”

“Totally.” Adora laughs, exhaling a little lingering relief from yesterday’s quest for lodging. 

“And...how are you feeling?”

Adora flops back on her pillow. “I don’t know. Like an asshole? Emotionally strung out?” She pauses, breathing through a wave of emotion that makes her eyes sting. More quietly she admits, “Sad.”

“Oh, Adora.” Mara sighs consolingly. “Are you sure you wanna be away right now? You know you’re more than welcome to crash with us as long as you need.”

Adora nods burying her face in the pillow, leaving her face just exposed enough to keep talking. “Yeah, I just...I feel like I need a reset, you know? She’s gonna be everywhere when I go back and I-I just wanna be able to go to the grocery store without remembering the shit fit Tal had in the parking lot when Starla shoplifted a fifth in Junior year.”

Mara laughs. “Wait, what?”

Adora chuckles morosely at the memory. It’s not a bad one, not at all. Just...the good ones are almost more painful right now. “Oh yeah, this was like,  _ right after _ we got together and the three of us were supposed to have a sleepover. Star and I got trashed playing The Bachelorette drinking game and Talia baked cookies and wouldn’t let us have any.”

Mara laughs at the anecdote. As she trails off she starts hesitantly with, “Adora…” She knows, Adora knows the question Mara is struggling to hold back; is she sure? 

“We could have been happy.” She admits softly. “Together we could have been happy.”

“But?”

Adora releases a shaky breath. “But I don’t...I don’t feel like  _ myself _ anymore. And I think part of that is because I’ve been trying so hard to-to-I know she loves me,” Adora rubs roughly at her forehead, frustrated at her inability to get the words out. “Talia loves me but she also made a ten year plan when we were twenty based on who we were then and-and the plan changed with her but I never felt like…” she trails off, lost in thoughts; of all the times she let Talia take the reins, all the times she wanted to argue but wanted Talia to be happy more. “I stopped advocating for myself at some point in that relationship.”

“Did you ever talk to her about how you were feeling?”

Adora laughs darkly. “You mean other than when I left her at the altar? Kind of.”

“Kind of how?”

“I didn’t really  _ understand _ how I was feeling, Mar. By the time I did we were bickering over wedding flowers. I think...I think that’s when I started to realize. She was like, shocked I was pushing back about something  _ I _ wanted and it was...it was so trivial and that made it so important.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she was so used to me giving in and going along with whatever she wanted she wouldn’t let me choose  _ one flower _ for the wedding that she didn’t like. And I felt so fucking  _ petty _ arguing with her about fucking flowers but-” Adora grumbles and feels her irritation spiking. That’s a stage of grief, right? Or like, anger? Maybe that means she’s progressing. “I mean, come on! We had a church wedding cause that’s what she wanted. We invited more than double the people I wanted there because she didn’t want to cut down her guestlist. I bought a whole new suit because she thought it was important. All that and she couldn’t give on  _ buttercups _ ?”

Adora’s voice has risen by a decibel or two by the end of her rant and Mara is quiet for a few long beats. “So...what do you want, Squirt?”

“I-what?”

“If you  _ had _ advocated for yourself, if you’re gonna start now, what do you want?”

“I-” Adora looks out the window. The butterflies from the before are back and she stands, walking over to the large corner window that overlooks the garden to watch them. “I think maybe that’s what I’m here to figure out.”

“I hope so, Squirt.” Mara intones. “I really do.” Adora hums absently, watching the butterflies outside flutter up, up, and out of sight. 

  
  


_ June 3rd, 2016  _

Catra is...a veritable disaster right now. She’s been running around like a top hat caught in a tornado all morning. Everyone keeps assuring her she’s ready, that the house is ready, and yet she can’t stop nitpicking over finicky details. Glimmer snapped at her an hour ago, telling Catra that if she was just going to follow her around redoing all her work, she’d be going up to the Buttercup room for a nap. Catra just rolled her eyes and refolded the towels one last time. 

She knows she needs to relax. If her family telling her left and right wasn’t enough, the way the floorboards of the house keep popping everytime she climbs the stairs ought to be. She just wants their opening this afternoon to be  _ perfect _ . She hops down the stairs and walks out to the garden, eyeing the broken window in the mudroom and adding it’s repair to her to-do list on the way. She collects a few stems of irises for the front desk and does a sweep of the garden. With Razz’s help, not to mention Micah and Bow who helped with a lot of the heavy lifting, it really came together. 

She glances over to the flower beds between the black hazel and the red cedar, at the lupines dancing in the breeze. Happiness and calm settle in her heart. They’re ready for this. Her energy drains with her stress and she drops into a cross legged position. And this is where Micah finds her, newly arrived after having to open the general store that morning. Catra glances at her watch, his relief must have been late again. 

“There you are, glad to see you taking a break.” He drops down beside her, smiling in that genuine way that makes his crow’s feet more pronounced and his laugh lines echo with vibrations of his deep chortle. “I hear you’ve been tearing around this place like a Tasmanian Devil.”

Catra huffs. “Have you been talking to Glimmer? Pretty sure she’s just mad because Angella never managed to teach her to make a bed right.”

“It’s kind of a consensus, Cat.” he answers back with a good natured laugh. 

“Psh, whatever.” She leans back on her arms, still staring out at the garden. “It just...it feels like I  _ have _ to be forgetting something.”

“Well,” Micah starts, considering his words carefully. “I really don’t think you are, but if something comes up we’re all here to help you deal with it.”

Catra just hums in response, grateful for the support but not fully convinced. They sit like that for a while, watching bright orange butterflies float by them. Catra’s pretty sure she spots a caterpillar or two on the flowers she planted for the monarchs and the sight warms her. This home isn’t just for her, and it isn’t just for the guests either. That was important to her in getting it ready, and to the house. 

“Have I told you how very  _ proud of you _ I am?” Catra looks over to Micah and sees tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, he’s always been an emotional crier. The sight makes her stomach swoop with emotion.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly, “you have.”

He nods and smiles warmly at her. “Good, good.” They’re quiet for another minute before he speaks up again, saying, “It’s funny, don’t you think? That this all came from her?”

Catra scowls at the mention of her mother, at the thought of her having any connection to this place. She looks away from Micah, a little betrayed that he would draw that line. “I guess.”

“Catra?”

“Hmm?”

“She doesn’t get any credit here, that’s not what I’m saying.”

She turns back, his smile has gone soft and a little sad now. Melancholy is probably the best word for it. “Then what are you saying exactly?”

He turns to the house, surveying it in its entirety. “I’m saying...Shadow did very few things right in her life, we both know that. She had you, which is a gift I will forever be grateful for.” Catra sniffs and looks away again. “Everything else...Catra, your mother put a lot of bad into the world, and just  _ look  _ at what you’ve done with it. You sold that house and you made a  _ home _ .” More quietly he adds, “She hurt  _ you _ , and not only have you healed but you’ve  _ grown _ . Flourished even.”

“Micah…” She turns back, trying for a reproachful look, but doubting her success.

“You’re my favorite cousin you know.” He says, voice a little lighter but still brutally honest.

Catra just rolls her eyes at the compliment. “I’m your  _ only _ cousin.”

“Hm, true, but I’m not  _ your _ only cousin and I’m still your favorite, right?” Catra scoffs and Micah winks at her. “I promise not to tell Casta.”

“Yeah right! You’ve got the biggest mouth in town.”

Micah lets out a fully bellied laugh at the accusation. “I think Razz might be offended if she heard you say that. Pretty sure she prides herself on being the town gossip.”

Catra huffs, smiling at the mention of the old woman. “If she didn’t intentionally spread  _ mis _ information, I might give her the title. She’s the town pot-stirrer for sure though.”

He pinches his lips between his teeth to hide a smirk, but it still lights up his eyes. Slowly it mellows, until his expression is back to Micah’s default, happy go lucky grin. “Really though, how are you feeling?”

Catra sighs and leans back on her arms again. “Honestly? Better after having spent some time with the garden. Still pretty stressed though.” Softly she asks, “Micah...what if it doesn’t work?”

He considers her for a long moment before answering. Catra feels the slither of a garter snake’s belly on her back and shakes it off with a pronounced shiver. “How could it not?” Catra purses her lips, twisting them to the side in dissatisfaction and Micah smiles encouragingly. “I know you’re nervous, but I  _ also know _ you love this house. Don’t you think everyone else will fall in love here too?”

Catra looks up at the house, inspecting every lovely inch of it. She feels her eyes soft and so sweet in their gaze that honeysuckle nectar trickles down the back of her throat and coats the inside of her mouth. She looks back to Micah, that sweetness still on her tongue, and softly asks him, “How could they not?”

He smiles back and turns to the house, then back to look her in the eyes. “Just do your best to enjoy the day, okay? You’re finally here and you’ve more than earned a good day.”

Catra nods and agrees, “I’ll do my best. I do want to get inside though, I don’t trust your daughter with decorations. If she has her way I’ll be finding confetti all the way up in my bedroom for the next five years.”

Micah laughs at the accurate assessment of Glimmer’s enthusiasm and stands, turning to help lift Catra off the ground once he’s on his feet. They head to the door and before crossing the threshold, Micah claps a hand on her shoulder and tells her, “Welcome home, baby girl.”

She lingers in the doorway and watches him retreat, hearing him greet Bow as he progresses down the hall. She leans against the door frame, resting her head against the wood, and repeats the words to herself and to the house, “Welcome home.”

_ June 23rd, 2020 _

Catra rolls her neck, leaning back on the stool at the front desk. She checks the clock, she’s got an hour till Huntara gets in. It’s not like she’s busy, there are no check ins today and most of the guests went out shortly after breakfast. Still no sign of the mystery woman in The Violet Room though. Catra drums her fingers on the desk and checks the clock again, a whole two minutes have passed. She has a vendor to call and she’s antsy to get her issue sorted. Or rather, she’s antsy to bitch Randi out for charging the inn double for a delivery of linen that arrived late. She’d just call but she knows it’s not something she’d be wise to do at the front desk. 

She pulls up a game of solitaire on the desktop and wins a couple rounds before clicking out of the app and pulling out a rag and polish. She starts in on the banister, fully aware Frosta just ‘did it’ on Saturday. Which of course means it’s overdue. And sure enough she feels the wood preen with the attention. She’s squinting at a crevice , trying to decide if it  _ actually _ needs more attention, or if the house is just getting greedy, when she hears a step above her creek. She looks up and knows instantly who it must be. 

The mystery woman from The Violet Room is...immediately interesting to Catra. She looks super gay first of all, dressed in a bro tank and cargo shorts with a lanyard hanging out of one pocket. She also looks, um...strong? Whatever-she’s a total knockout. Catra clears her throat and turns her attention back to her task. Then another sound pulls her attention up the stairs again. 

There’s a loud  _ clunk _ followed instantly with a quiet, “ _ Shit! _ ” 

Catra’s not sure if she skipped a step or slipped or what. Whatever it was that she missed when she looked away, it landed this woman on her ass a couple steps up from Catra thus putting them roughly at eye level. “Hey.” She starts, smirking when the greeting makes the woman’s face heat and her eyes close. “You must be Adora.”

“Hi.” She answers weakly, peeking her eyes open. “Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“So,” Catra starts, setting down her cleaning supplies so she can cross her arms and turn to face Adora. “Your ass bruised, or just your ego?”

Impossibly, her face turns even more red. She laughs shortly, a little surprised maybe. “Little bit of both I think.”

Catra fights a losing battle with her laughter. “You need help up or…?”

“Nah, think I’ll just sit here till the shame kills me, thanks though.”

“Well, it better do you in by three.”

That gets a bewildered smile out of Adora and she raises an eyebrow in question. “Oh? What happens at three?”

“That’s prime real estate when the sun comes through that window.” She nods her head toward the window behind her guest, and she turns to look. “No way Melog’s not fighting you for it when nap time comes.”

Adora laughs and turns back around. “Are you telling me I’m in the cat’s seat? That’s Melog, right?”

“Sure is.”

“Well,” Adora pushes herself up, bracing her hands on her knees. She towers over Catra. “Guess I’ll have to find a different grave then.”

Catra snorts and swears she sees Adora preen pridefully at the sound. “Probably wise.” She hops off the first step she’s been on while working on the banister and returns to the front desk, tucking her supplies away. “So, what brings you to the cape? Glimmer didn’t say, just that you snagged our last minute cancellation.”

For some reason this makes Catra’s new guest turn bright red. “Oh, uh, just...looking to get away, you know?”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “For the entirety of summer?”

And now she’s even redder. “Yeah, my uh, plans for the summer kind of...fell through.” She laughs to herself darkly, like there’s some kind of inside joke Catra’s not in on. “My housing too for that matter.” A shrug and, “I’m not in any rush to start apartment hunting, so I figured; why not? I guess.”

Catra eyes her up for a beat and Adora’s posture tells her not to ask. She turns and opens the window, breathing in the light scent of freesia that drifts in on the breeze. “Well, can’t argue with you there. Apartment hunting sucks.”

When she turns around again, Adora looks relieved. “Totally.”

“So, where are you in from?”

“Just Boston, not far.” Adora relaxes more fully and leans against the counter. Catra hops up on her stool, reclining against the backrest. 

“First time?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, but I haven’t been since, uh, since I was a kid. What about you, are you from here, or…?”

“Born and raised.”

“You like it then?”

Catra shrugs. “I mean, it’s like any home town, right? Parts that you love, parts that are just...home, and y’know-”

“Parts that suck?”

Catra laughs at the blunt assessment. “Yeah, that. It’s mostly just weird being in a tourist town, you know?”

“Isn’t there a joke about how the area sinks a foot in the summer or something?”

Catra rolls her eyes, but it’s good natured. “I mean, my much older cousin thinks that’s hilarious, yeah, but…” She raises an eyebrow and smirks.

Unbothered, Adora throws her head back in a laugh. It’s a nice laugh, a deep and reverberating sound. “I just made myself sound like a total tourist, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t deny it either.” Adora quips back. Catra leans further into the conversation, barely aware of the movement. 

“I mean, if I was gonna call you out for seeming like a tourist I’d probably give you shit for the fanny pack first.” Adora spins around halfway to look at her ass, or rather the bag resting on it. Catra hadn’t noticed it at first-stars only know how seeing as it’s bright as hell, fucking neon in fact-but now that she has she can’t unnotice it. 

“Oh!” she says brightly, facing Catra again. “I got it on clearance.”

Catra snorts. “Can’t  _ imagine _ how it ended up on the sale rack.”

Adora pouts unconvincingly around a goofy smile. “It’s fun! And handsfree.” She smiles winsomely and Catra gives her the most unimpressed look she can muster. Trying another tactic apparently, Adora shares, “You know, they’re called bum bags in the UK.”

Catra fights a smile. “Okay?”

Adora shrugs. “Just a fun fact.”

“Yeah, you’re a real fountain of knowledge.”

Adora chuckles. “Occupational hazard.”

“And you do what exactly that requires you to know about alternate names for fanny packs?”

“I write.”

“You write.” Adora nods, not giving further information. Catra gives into her curiosity. “Anything I would have read?”

“Uh, do you like mystery novels?”

Catra closes her eyes and gives her head a shake. “Okay, please tell me how writing mystery novels led you to researching fanny packs.”

Another shrug. “My publisher was pushing for something set in regency London. They said it’s a very ‘hot era’ right now, but I think they’re just a big Pride and Prejudice fan.”

Catra blinks hard. “Did they-did they even have fanny packs back then?”

The question earns her a weird look and a snort. “They were invented in the eighties, dude.”

“You’re the one who said-” Catra starts indignantly.

“I mean, it came up when I was researching but it wasn’t  _ relevant _ .”

Catra scoffs at that. “Well whatever it’s called, it makes you look like a tourist for sure.”

Adora hums thoughtfully, then shrugs. “I suppose I can live with that.” She throws up jazz hands and adds, “So long as my hands are free.”

Catra groans, “Oh stars.”

“Besides,” Adora continues, “aren’t fanny packs supposed to be like,  _ in _ again.”

“I really hope not.”

She laughs, open and loud; it’s...pleasant. “Okay, rude. Do you have a manager I can speak to? This customer service is terrible.”

“Perks of owning the business, Karen. I do what I want.”

Adora lays a hand over her heart, as if beyond offended. “Wow, that got me Karen-ed? Really?”

“You literally just asked to speak to the manager.”

“It was clearly a joke!” Adora defends. Then, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder dramatically, she adds, “Besides, my haircut is all wrong.”

“Karens come in all shapes and sizes, dude, believe me.” Catra tells her sagely. 

Adora just laughs. “Fair enough. Wait-you said you’re the owner?”

“Yes...?”

“I didn’t get your name, but that makes you Catra, right?”

“That’s me.”

Adora sticks out a hand, which Catra accepts, and says, “Well, good to meet ya.”

“Likewise. So, where are you off to?”

She shrugs. “Not sure, the beach maybe.”

“Gotcha, well have fun exploring.”

“Thanks! I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Seems inevitable.” Adora laughs at that and nods, offering a little wave before heading out. Before she crosses the threshold into the entry hall Catra calls out, “Oh, hey Adora?”

She turns back and a floorboard creaks beneath her feet. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to The Elderberry Inn.” 

Adora smiles warmly. “Thanks,” she says, “I’m happy to be here.”

And then, without any further fanfare, she’s off leaving Catra alone with the house and the floral scent still lingering in the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii!!! Thanks for reading another chapter. Just 31 to go!!   
> Normally I'm decently quick with updates (unofficial hiatus on Drama of College notwithstanding...) but it's been like...A Time in my brain lately so idk how quick they'll be the next couple weeks. Hoping it'll pick up again, if not sooner, after a few things settle in a few weeks but no promises!
> 
> Introduction of Huntara, Bow, and more coming up in Chapter Four!


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